


Over The Edge

by Llaeyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco, Community: hp_may_madness, HP May Madness 2016, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Rimming, Semi-Anonymous Sex, Top Albus Severus Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompts “You’ll be back.”, ‘hands’, ‘air’, ‘candle’, and ‘blindfolding’ from Day 11 of hp_may_madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over The Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [_Melodic_ (Sae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sae/gifts).



> Dedicated to _melodic_, because this pairing is all her wonderful fault.
> 
> [Read on LJ](http://llaeyro.livejournal.com/33207.html)

He approached me in the club from behind. His firm hands on my hips purposely discouraged me from turning. He sounded young—younger than the men I would usually entertain—but there was such an engaging confidence about him. Nothing of the naive air one of his age should posses when pressed up against an older man. He whispered promises in my ear, low and filthy. I was helpless to decline.

We Apparated into a small bedroom, lit only by a few candles. Before I could turn, he dangled the blindfold in front of me, subtly gauging, silently pleading. Recklessly, I agreed.

He moved about me subtly. I would hear him apparently across the room, only to discover that he was still beside me when sharp nails scraped across my nipple. Or teeth grazed my collarbone. Or fingers seemed to dance on every available stretch of skin, except for where I wanted them most.

I couldn't say how long he spent tormenting me. He laid me on my stomach, cock between my spread legs, straining against the mattress. His tongue danced from the tip of my cock, across my balls, to my entrance and back again, over and over. He loosened me slowly with his tongue, his fingers. He left me open and empty, writhing on the bed in exquisite frustration. It was only when I babbled and begged, close to tears of frustration, that he finally fucked me.

He kept me on my stomach, holding me open with his thumbs as he pushed in, slow and sure. He draped himself over my back, grinding his hips into me, hard. He praised me as I cried out, stroked my hair, my cheek, told me how long he had watched me—had _wanted_ me. When he had me scrabbling at the sheets, driven to insanity by the slow pace, he turned me onto my back. He drove into me again, hands on the backs of my thighs, practically bending me in half. All I could do was brace my hands against the headboard, arch my back and scream. It was frantic, and desperate, and too much... yet it didn’t stop there.

He pulled out on the brink of my orgasm. I cursed as he wanked himself, groaning as he came over my stomach, cock and arse. Moments later, I came down his throat, fingers tangled in his hair.

When he removed the blindfold, I was ashamed, mortified. Not just a Potter boy, the youngest. Of all the things he said to me that night—the lewd suggestions, the delayed promises, the praise and encouragement—what really sticks in my mind are the last words he spoke to me, as I attempted to flee.

"You'll be back."

He was still naked, leaning casually and confidently against the door frame as I pushed past him angrily. Some would presume it was his arrogance that angered me. In truth, I was angry at myself.

Because I knew that I would prove him right, eventually.


End file.
